


Little Red Logan And The Big Bad James

by skyline



Category: Big Time Rush
Genre: Little Red Riding Hood - Freeform, M/M, total crack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-11
Updated: 2012-11-11
Packaged: 2017-11-18 11:09:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/560385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skyline/pseuds/skyline
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Logan loves his red sweater vest and smokes herbal remedies, Carlos is a princess, and Kendall is very serious about being a Huntsman. </p><p>Please, please, please do not take this seriously.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Little Red Logan And The Big Bad James

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Breila_rose](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Breila_rose/gifts).



> breila_rose wanted crack!fic. Boy, did I deliver.

Once upon a time there lived a young boy named Little Red Logan. He was so named because he wore a red sweater vest, like, everywhere.

“But it’s hideous,” he was told with great frequency by his bestest best friend, Snow Carlos.

Just like every other day, Little Red Logan ignored him. Snow Carlos was an exiled princess, and knew nothing about practical outerwear. Little Red Logan’s red sweater vest was super practical. It had a special pocket where he could store his number two pencils, so there.

He caved and told Snow Carlos that after Carlos called his super awesome vest butt ugly eight times, but Snow Carlos shook his head. “Who the fuck uses pencils, dude? That’s why god invented laptops. And smart phones. And iPads.”

Little Red Logan decided to run from Snow Carlos’s utter ignorance by escaping to his four o’ clock tutoring appointment at Katie’s house.

“But Little Red Logan,” Snow Carlos protested, “Katie lives over the river and through the woods, and there is a wolf on the prowl.” He twisted his fingers in his sparkly pink skirts nervously.

Snow Carlos got along with all manner of woodland creatures, going so far as to sing idly in meadows surrounded by an entourage of sparrows, rhinoceri, demon-eyed bunnies, and snakes. But he was deathly afraid of canine-like creatures, and had been ever since the tragic demise of his faithful Alaskan Klee Kai, Sparky, who fell down a well in an attempt to rescue a damseled pop princess from another land.

“Baby, I was counting on you,” Princess Pop-Sparks had said, “But I wasn’t counting on Sparky drowning. Lassie he was not.”

Snow Carlos had tried to ask Princess Pop-Sparks to be his new Sparky, but apparently chicks don’t dig it when you tell them they remind you of dogs. Who knew?

“I promise not to let the big bad wolf eat me,” Little Red Logan swore solemnly, because wolfy stomach acid would really ruin his sweater vest. “And I won’t let the poor thing drown in any wells, either.”

“Sparky,” Snow Carlos whimpered sadly.

Little Red Logan scratched him behind the ears, “There, there.”

Little Red Logan enjoyed walking over the river and through the woods, whistling old Rivers Cuomo songs to himself like the geezer he would one day grow up to be. He had his lucky sweater vest on and his trusty number two pencils tucked squarely away, and the sun shone on the dessicated corpses of raccoons, deer, and opossums as he strode past. The wolf must have been really hungry, but Little Red Logan wouldn’t begrudge the poor thing its appetite.

“Coexist, man,” Guitar Dude said every night when they smoked herbal remedies (Little Red Logan was really near sighted) and played bongos in his Wonderland garden. (Snow Carlos was always invited, but he had emus to cuddle with and sing lullabies to). “Coexist!”

Little Red Logan could not agree more.

He made it to Katie’s house without having to push any wolves in wells, which was a total relief. Little Red Logan sort of had spaghetti arms. At least, that’s what his ex girlfriend, Prince Camille always said.

Camille knew what she was talking about; she was a knight, totally toned all over. She used to bond with Little Red Logan by letting him be her sparring dummy. He loved getting spanked by the broad side of her sword.

Ah, those were the days.

Sadly, charming Prince Camille dumped him for the legendary Briar Jo, a sleeping hottie with a kingdom of her own over the mountains on the other side of the sea. Briar Jo had an unfortunate sleeping disorder because of a curse laid upon her by a trio of badass fairies named the Jennifers. But allegedly, Prince Camille wakes her from her long sleep every afternoon with a kiss.

And sex.

Legendary sex.

Sometimes they can hear the moaning all the way across the meadow, over the sound of Snow Carlos’s songs. Little Red Logan tries not to be jealous. He doesn’t always succeed, but then Guitar Dude lets him have some of Wonderland’s finest, and after a few rounds of Dear Prudence on the bongos, he always feels better.

Anyway, there was no well-pushing needed, and Logan stood in the foyer of Katie’s house waiting for her to come tell him math was _stupid_ , but it didn’t happen. Reluctantly, he made his way to the living room, where he was sure to find her watching HBO and stirring a cauldron of trouble.

He found her there, huddled beneath an old knit blanket, face in shadows.

“Katie, it’s time to learn about hypotenuses!” Little Red Logan announced brightly.

“Math is dumb,” a surprisingly gruff voice replied.

Little Red Logan found himself immediately concerned. He sucked at making chicken soup, and besides, the smell would never come out of his sweater vest. “Katie, are you sick? What a deep voice you have.”

“The, uh, better for you to hear me with,” Katie bit out.

There was something moving under the blanket in a weirdly hypnotic motion. Katie’s legs twitched, feet peeking out from beneath the edge of the crochet. Little Red Logan stared.

“Katie, what long legs you have.”

“The better to, um, kick some hypotenuse butt with, m’dear.”

Katie had never called Little Red Logan my dear before, but the deep choking noise Katie made distracted him from the terminology. Her mouth gaped open, teeth blindingly white.

“Katie, what pearly teeth you have.”

Katie made another noise.

“Um. Do you need the heimlich?” Little Red Logan asked hesitantly. He was medically trained and all, but he’d never had to use it in real life before. Stupid, he told Katie not to eat her mom’s chocolate chip cookies lying down.

“No,” Katie trilled, tail twitching up from beneath the blanket.

…wait a second.

Dimly, Little Red Logan said, “Katie, what shiny fur you have,” and Katie said, “Ah, ahhhh, ahhhhhhh fuck yes, there, fuck, oh my god,” and Little Red Logan realized this totally was not Katie.

He snatched the blanket away, yelling, “You’re the wolf! What have you done with Ka-” His words died in his throat, because the wolf was totally not alone under that thing. “Kendall?”

Kendall wiped the back of his hand over his mouth, spit shiny and red. He looked very, very sheepish, his plaid huntsman’s shirt all askew.

“Kendall, were you just eating the wolf?”

“Uh. Let’s go with that, sure,” Kendall replied, tugging the blanket back so that it covered the creature, who actually looked like a very handsome young man with killer abs and a fluffy tail. Little Red Logan thought he spied two pointy ears sticking out of his frankly immaculate hair, now that the blanket wasn’t pulled over his head.

“Did he- where’s Katie?” Horrified, Little Red Logan said, “Oh my goodness, did he eat Katie?”

“Of course not,” Kendall said at the same time as the wolf bristled.

“I don’t eat meat!”

“But what about all those dead creatures I saw on the way here?”

“That wasn’t me. I’m a vegetarian.” The wolf crossed his arms and pouted. He was a pretty impressive pouter.

“Oh, uh, yeah, that was Cruella DeJett. He wanted a new fur coat,” Kendall said a little awkwardly. “Little Red Logan, this is the Big Bad James. James, this is Logan. Yeah. No one kill each other now, okay? We just got the carpets cleaned in here.”

“But…” Little Red Logan frowned. “Where’s Katie?”

“Uh. I think she went to the sea to visit the Little Lucymaid.”

“We have math,” Logan protested. 

“Math is dumb,” the Big Bad James supplied.

Little Red Logan glared. “Math is not dumb. Math is wondrous.”

“Like that sweater vest?” James asked teasingly, and Kendall snickered. Which, whatever, he wore plaid.

Little Red Logan declared, “Somewhere out there, someone appreciates the color red.”

“Yeah, well. Not here.” Kendall said. “I’ve got more, uh. Hunting to do.” He gazed at the wolf boy, James, hungrily. “Bye Little Red Logan. Shoo. Go on. Scram.”

So Logan did, because confused as he was, he had awesome work ethic, and wouldn’t dare get in the way of Kendall’s huntsman job.

Unfortunately, he didn’t find anyone who truly appreciated his sweater vest that night, and he was forced to go home and snuggle with Snow Carlos in all his crinoline, demon bunnies pressed into his side. But one day, far in the future, Little Logan does meet the great RobinZevon, who loves his sweater vest!

He is also batshit crazy and wants to pierce Little Red Logan with his Dakhood, but that’s an entirely different story.

The end.


End file.
